CHAPTER ONE
The word love doesn't exactly describe what I'm feeling for him not at the moment and hopefully not this lifetime. He looks at me with expecting eyes, hands clumped together in anticipation. It's comical really, all we have been doing is fucking, not making love, just bumping uglies on the off day that I feel the least bit interested in relieving stress without going to the gym. I can't tell him what he desires to be reciprocated if it was never there in the first place. My eyes connect with the waitress at the opposite end of the room, a swift come hither movement makes her all but run to our table with the bill in her hand. We were the last set of people - my guess- his attempt at a romantic gesture.
"The bill please, thank you" My voice is an awkward squeak, I feel his penetrating gaze but I refuse to acknowledge it. I did not expect a proclamation of love, just food; that's it. This is your run of the mill fling, no strings or hang up feelings just plain old sex.
Plain isn't even a damn good word for it. The chuckle escapes me, Oh God I hope that doesn't anger him so he won't pay the check. I just brought my stomach and appetite. My lips draw between my teeth as I nervously run my teeth over it until I can taste the metallic sting.
"You're not going to say anything back?" His anger is plain as day. Maybe ignoring him was a bad idea but what else was I supposed to do, it was completely unnecessary and weird how he just told me he loved me, I damn near choked on my desert.
"I don't want a relationship Damion, all we do is fuck, you don't even know where my house is- let alone my likes and dislikes" My own doing mostly, but that's the truth, Our connection is just physical and before he decided to spew nonsense out his mouth it was perfectly agreeable.
"Mona, this has been going on for a year!" he angrily whispers, seeing as the waitress is still in earshot then barely stands just so he can lean over the table and press his balled up fists beside my tapping fingers. "You mean to tell me that you feel nothing for me at all?" He asks, shocked.
Yup, I mean of course I don't feel anything for him. Lust maybe, though that's hardly the case since I only see him once a week along with the others I keep on a routine schedule. I'm young and free, I can do whatever I want, sexual immorality be damned.
"Lust, maybe? I don't know Damion, what do you want me to say? I don't love you and I made it perfectly clear that all I wanted was sex." The gall of the man to be angry with me over a fling. If the roles were reversed I would have been expected to just leave him alone and find someone else. What's the big deal with wanting no strings attached? Was this not what all men want?
"Lust? Are you serious! Lust? I pay your rent, gas and I always cover the tab for our dinners" Absolutely no one asked him to do any of that. I don't owe him anything. If he really wants to put prices on this he should be ticking off every fuck I gave him. Had time travel been invented I would have wound it back to the day I met him in the bar on Franklin's Ave. I give him a blank stare and debate if I should reach over the table and finish off his untouched tiramisu. Tomorrow's a big day and I really need to head home and get a good night's sleep.
"And? You pay for everything, does that mean I owe you something? You don't love me, you think I'm just some slut don't you! Am I a prostitute to you, Damian. Is that all it is?" Wide eyes meet mine, he quickly grips my hands in his and shakes his head. The minute I get in his car I'm blocking him.
"No, I just thought you would have at least had some feelings for me." He admits. I bow my head and cover my eyes in a means for him to hurry up and forget our prior exchange. He does. The sound of a pen scribbling onto the paper reaches my ears as well as money hitting the table.
His hands gently touch my arms and slowly pull me up. I stare into his oval honey brown eyes, he's so cute. I took a good look at his face, the strong square jaw dusted in well groomed facial hair that occupied the majority of his jaw and upper lip. His greek nose is coated in freckles. I can't believe he had to go and ruin this for the both of us. I'll miss him.
"I'm so sorry, I wanted to make this special for the both of us, but you're right. I thought all women wanted a man that could provide for them, I'm not trying to buy you- you're not cheap, Mona. I'll make it up to you, I promise." I nod at him and tuck my head under his chin. He smells like a Ralph lauren commercial, grassy with a hint of spices. I like it, it suits him well.
We maneuver through the plethora of elegantly decorated round tables whilst his hand is tucked in the small of my back, and exit through large wooden doors of the Italian restaurant.A faint drizzle falls around us causing me to rub my arms and the cold air hits me immediately.The valet at the larger assortment of keys runs to wherever and soon the car is parked in front of us. Damion holds the extended umbrella over my head, helping me get in the black mercedes before closing the door and following suit. Call me vain but his car was what attracted me to him in the first place. My head is angled towards the sign titled Gino's Restaurante. I can't tear my eyes off the length of the wide red carpet laid under the olive green striped awning. It was perfect, everything leading up to the desert was perfect, any girl would be happy to have him but that's not what I want for myself. The door slams shut as he gets in and almost immediately his hand is gripping my thigh while he starts the car and pulls away from the expensive building.
I don't know what to do but watch the lights of houses from its isolated view in the hills visible from the road below. He tries his best to change the mood in the car by playing some music, the acoustic version of Slaves- Body on fire begins to play. Is it bad I'm in love with Johnny Craig's voice? Before I forget, I take out my phone and find his contact, my finger settles over the block option. Without a doubt it's exactly what I need to do before one of us gets burned. I click it. The leather chair becomes my personal sofa as I turn to lay on my side and take his hand in mine. It feels so impersonal to touch him like this after I erased him from my life less than a second ago.
*******
"It's a little messy here" His voice is masked with embarrassment, I look around the relatively clean apartment and see nothing out of the ordinary safe for some scattered papers on the kitchen partition and grey couch. The door closes and he removes his jacket hanging it in the coat rack in the corner of the room. I need to get this over with. The sooner I have sex with him and remind myself what this really is, the better.
I clumsily turn and our bodies are crushed together. His athletic build presses against my breasts causing them to push into view. His mouth pops open for his tongue to do a quick swipe. So pink and long. Instead of egging him on I reach up and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The dark roots turn light blonde at the tips, If it's one thing I admire personally about him, it's the mop of curly hair he has, really plays into the sexy nerdy Big Data Analyst look.
"You said you'd make it up to me Damion..." One hand moves from his hair and slides down his chest popping each button one by one. I can feel his heart pounding with every unintentional scrape of my nails on his ripped abdomen. I love the effect I have on him, I love the way he plays into my dominance. Makes my pussy wet.
"Y-Yes" he hitches
"Yes what" I sneered, pulling him down to my eye level by the collar of his open button down.
"Yes Mistress" I get so turned on , something about a big man submitting to someone smaller than him is so sexy. My hands slowly push off his shirt, I shove down on his shoulders until he's kneeling in front of me and my leg is thrown over his shoulder. Without words he pushes the fabric of the short gold sequin dress until his hand is bracing on my stomach. His fingers get to work and he's rubbing both his middle and index finger on my heat. I feel his hands slide up and down pushing down harder when he reaches my clit. My head is thrown back, chest rising as I barely manage to press myself into the wall to regain balance. Fuck he's a God at this. The gusset of my lace underwear is pushed to the side, slowly he pushes a finger in, eyes boring into mine. I can't keep from biting my lip when he presses up and starts massaging the swollen flesh. One finger becomes two and I can't help but moan in deep appreciation. You can hear how wet I am from a mile away.
His tongue, oh his long tongue pokes out and runs painfully slow over my sopping pussy. Fuck. Every purposeful lick is slow and taunting. I see him smile through his open mouthed position. He spits on my heat and watches it run down before slurping every last drop out of me.
I'm coming, I can feel it but it's not there yet. Without warning I grab his head and push him face first. He's aggressive with it. His lips form a suction over my clit while he continues to fingerfuck me. I want to switch positions and slam down on his dick, it feels too good.
"You dirty whore, you wanna squirt on my tongue with this sweet pussy?" his fingers plunge in and out and I can't hold on anymore.
"Fuuuck!" the words are stuck in my throat, my eyes are shut tight, every muscle in my hot pussy is in overdrive. It's quick and breath stopping, I cream , my back arches and my hands go to the wall as I scream my release. The greedy bastard stays and licks all while I'm pulsing on his tongue desperately trying to catch my breath. I feel him lift me, he adjusts me in his arms bridal style and moves us into the bedroom, gently laying me on the Queen Size bed. I watch from under half shut lids as he pulls out his dick, it's average sized but that's as far as it goes. My leg is pushed until my knee is pressed against my shoulders and my foot is bent toward him. He starts stroking and in a matter of seconds he comes on my toes. Hot sticky liquid drapes from the rose pink head and slowly drips on my feet. My post coital bliss is cut short. He doesn't want to have regular sex because he's so wrapped up in his kink for my feet but that doesn't stop him from getting me off. It's embarrassing truly- but I do not kink shame, unless it's a poop fetish that's one thing I can't sympathize with. He moves to wipe me off and lays opposite to me on the bed. His mouth encloses over my toes, it's a weird feeling but I can't deny I love the feel of his mouth.
We stay like this for a while until I notice he's subdued. Slowly, I pull my feet away from the grip of his arms. I tiptoe and grab the Louboutin shoes he bought me last week. The man may have his fault but damn does he have impeccable taste in shoes. I might as well leave him with a gift, I snake off my panties and leave it beside him. With my phone and purse in hand I hurry and leave his home to the outside of the apartment building. Not a lot of people are out here this time of night, which I'm thankful for. There's a bus stop not too far from here, I don't want to have to walk too far. Instead, I call for an uber.
Fifteen minutes pass and I'm still stuck outside his complex. It's so cold my breath is wading through the frosty air in grey clouds. A grey honda civic pulls up a few feet away, I'm not dumb enough to just jump in, I turn and check my phone again-It's the same car- great, now I can get home. I jump in and tell him the next stop. It's silent in the car just the subtle whoosh of the air conditioner and some low news station zoning on in the background.
The busy streets leading up to my house keep me from falling asleep, I stare through the window at round amber lights perched on long concrete sticks. I don't know what I'm doing with my life at this rate. I'm not happy but I'm not sad either, lately my feelings all pinpoint to me being numb. The car stops and I just now realise that I'm home. I get out with my heels in hand, oddly the asphalt is warm, it reminds me of home . Back on the island you could walk barefoot up and down and no one would look at you like a crazy person because it was a comfort to some. Here, not so much, I miss being home but I know it'll never be the same since I've been conditioned to this life. I enter the building and relax once I'm in the comfort of my apartment. At this rate I just need an out.
So much for Miss Mona Collins, elementary teacher by day and full time lover at night- now it's just back to boring old Azalea. I stare at his number and wonder if I should delete it. Who knows maybe I'll need him one day. The place is quiet, I see some clothes scattered on the floor, throwing off my dress I throw myself on the couch and allow myself to drift.
*******
"I-it's you" my steps falter at the voice. I try to convince myself it isn't who I think it is but I know better. Her manicured hand grips my wrist and pulls me into the break room. I stare wearily at her, I can't talk. I'm embarrassed and flustered but I can't help myself from becoming angry.
"What do you want Sam?" I whisper yell hoping to God no one notices us. Her wide doe eyes meet mine. I break contact and look at her curly hair that's pinned into a bun, it frames her oval face with its loose tendrils. Her clear copper skin glows and I notice that she's twiddling her thumbs as she observes me with some level of remorse. My eyes gravitate to her breasts that are straining against the fabric of her buttoned dress. I can't tear my gaze away from them. What the hell is she wearing? She looks like a prostitute.
She mistakes it for attraction, her lips connect with mine and I don't hesitate to move my lips against hers. She squeezes my breast through my blazer and her other hand finds itself rubbing my leg until it settles on my pussy. I grind into her hand and trail my lips down her neck. The scent of her perfume is complete euphoria. This is wrong- extremely wrong; but all so satisfying. I'm grunting, chasing the impending release as her pace quickens. She bypasses my zip and runs her hand down my sopping pussy. My head is tossed back. Two fingers push into me. I come apart as she runs her fingers over the piece of flesh that makes me quiver in her hands. I damn near scream out my release in her neck as I pulse in her hand.
Sweaty and out of breath from my suppressed moans I push her off me. She gazes at me with smudged red lipstick, her brown eyes make me feel the hurt she's experiencing. They're always so expressive, I can read whatever she's feeling but I know it's the same for me. She knows I don't want this to continue but I also have no control over my pull to her.
"Stop!" I yell as she comes closer to me. My hands shakily pull up my zipper and fix my out of place shirt. She doesn't stop, in fact, she comes closer. Her sticky fingers draw to her lips and she sucks them one by one, never breaking eye contact. I feel so dirty. So disgusting when I think of what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with.
"I'm not gay! Stop touching me" I snarl at her. she jumps at the tone of voice I use. I'm not gay, I don't like women. I don't find them attractive.
"God" I grip my head frustratedly. What is she doing to me? Why is she doing this to me? She knows my beliefs and what it means to me but she always does this. My body belongs to her. I sigh in defeat- It's a painful thought. I could never give her what she wants because it wasn't how I was raised- this wasn't what I grew up with. It's fucked up really how I want to include religion even though I keep having sex with strangers but the thought of settling down with someone of the same sex repulses me? I shrug it off and try to avoid her gaze.
"Oh stop with the lying Zaeli!, you're not gay but you don't have a problem with me fucking you in the break room? You kiss me when I kiss you and you always tell me you love me! Stop playing with me" her eyes gather tears.
"As a friend!" I blinked rapidly not wanting to have a breakdown. What'd she think, I loved her romantically? We were just fooling around. I don't value sex like I know I should because it's meaningless exertion between horny people. You go in then leave, that's all there is to it.
"What?" She stares at me disbelievingly. It's time she smelled the roses, I don't think of her the same way she does me.
"I tell you I love you as a friend Sam, that's what you are, a friend, I don't see you as more than that and I'm not gay." I whisper even though there's no one around these parts at this hour if at all since it's too early. She sighs in resignation and waves a tired hand to end the argument.
"Where were you?" This is our pattern in all it's perpetual toxicity, We fool around, argue then move on- at least I do. The way she's looking at me leads me to believe she knows exactly where I was and what I was doing and it bothers her.
"Where were you Zaeli?" she asks again, this time her voice is lowered.
"I went on a date."
She keeps silent and stares at me so I do the same. It's no one's business how I spend my time bestfriend or not. When I was younger my Grandmother had a habit of doing the same thing Sam is and I used to be so scared would always snitch on myself and say something that wasn't even up for question. It's not gonna work this time because I'm an adult and she doesn't pay my bills. At this rate, I'm over it all. I plop on the counter and turn sideways so I can rest my feet and show off my new heels. Her eyes zone in on them and rather than being impressed she just scoffs.
"Stop calling them dates Azalea, you let them take you out then drop them after they start catching feelings or it gets worse, like Marc-" I whip around so fast my headache returns.
"Do you ever get tired of being in people's business or is it a default setting so you can ignore your non-existent love life?" Her mouth snaps shut and I smirk to myself. There's never a moment when I can just be myself with Sam and it's just depressing, a part of me wants to cut her off completely but she's grandfathered her way in and knows too much about me so I have no choice but to remain friends. Maybe, it's just me, I can love you one minute and then the next my mind brings up things about you that I start to hate more and more. With her it's the constant need to place herself in my intimate life and act as if I need to value her opinion. It's my life and my mistakes.
"I'm just looking out for you Zaeli, If you have not noticed by now I'm your only friend and I'm not going anywhere."
"By choice"
"What?"
"You're my only friend by choice. Don't forget how we became friends Sam, because I sure as hell haven't" I exit the room and go back to my desk as if nothing happened. I sigh and reach for my thermos . The scent of ginger eases my nausea, a shadow casts over my shoulder. It better not be her again, there's only so much drama I can take.
"Ms. Woods, they're expecting you."
"What, no they're not, my interview is scheduled for 1'0, said so in the letter" I can't go in now, I haven't psyched myself up or prayed a little. He shakes his head and points at the clipboard he's been holding all this time. Lo and behold my name is checked in neon green for 9;00. Fuck me.
He turns and I quickly swipe my folder off the desk, I haven't had breakfast yet so this will have to do. Taking a mouthful of the piping beverage I instantly regret it as I do, my throat burns and my tongue feels numb. I can taste blood even though I know it's not bleeding. A fit of coughs escape me while we walk and board the elevator. He turns to look at me from the corner of his eyes but does nothing. Second pass until only a strong burn sticks in the back of my throat. I stare out the glass building, the view from below is almost scary, I have a mild fear of heights but who doesn't. The familiar ding tells us we've arrived. His extended hand gestures for me to exit once the doors draw open and I'm able to see the quiet floor more clearly.
"Goodluck."
"You too," I say without thinking. The door closes and he goes down with it. My feet lead me to the big glass door with bold vinyl printed conference room 5. I straighten my blouse and press down on the lapel of my blazer. My hands ball at my sides and I suck in a deep breath before pushing on the door and entering.
When I do, surprise envelopes me.
